


Good Woman

by oyhumbug



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Angst, Death, Discussion of Abortion, Drama, Epistolary, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapping, Loss, Love, Murder, One Shot, Parenthood, Prison, Regret, Revenge, Romance, Song Lyrics, alternative history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27287461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oyhumbug/pseuds/oyhumbug
Summary: Featuring three letters that Tara wrote to Jax throughout their long and complicated relationship, Jax reflects back on their time both together and apart, coming to some important realizations.
Relationships: Jax Teller & Abel Teller, Jax Teller & Gemma Teller Morrow, Jax Teller & Thomas Teller (son), Jax Teller & Wendy Case, Tara Knowles & Abel Teller, Tara Knowles & Gemma Teller Morrow, Tara Knowles & Thomas Teller (son), Tara Knowles & Wendy Case, Tara Knowles/Jax Teller
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Good Woman

**Author's Note:**

> "Good Woman" by Cat Power is one of my favorite songs. Ever. As soon as I watched SOA, I started to associate it with Tara. For me, it has become HER song. So, I've been wanting to write a story based around its lyrics for years. This is the result. Yes, it is another one shot, and, no, at this time, I do not have plans to continue it. But I hope that you will like it nevertheless. After this, I'll start posting one of the two full-length stories that I've been working on. One is completely and the other is almost finished. As always, thank you for reading.
> 
> ~Charlynn~

**Good Woman  
** **A Jax and Tara One Shot**

The first time Tara wrote Jax a letter, he wasn’t surprised by her means of communication, by what she couldn’t say to him in person, or even, really, the timing of the damn thing, but he was still caught off guard nevertheless, because he didn’t know what to _do_ about it.   
  
Tara had always been a quiet girl growing up. Everyone just assumed that she was shy, that she was a little socially awkward after losing her mom and being left to be raised alone by her drunk father. But that wasn’t it at all. Tara had plenty to say, and she could be the most outgoing person Jax knew, but she would only give those pieces of herself to someone who she felt was worthy. Why should she want to talk to the adults around town who judged her, who shunned her, or their kids who took their cues from their parents? But Jax she trusted. Jax she found interesting and intelligent enough to share not just her body with but also her mind. Jax didn’t somehow discover the real Tara… or even bring her out of her shell. Rather, Tara decided that he could know her.  
  
Even after the club started to cause friction in their relationship, Tara never pushed him away or shut him out. In fact, she told him _exactly_ how she felt about and what she thought of his decisions… sometimes to the point where Jax kind of wished that she’d hold back a little bit. And she never denied an opportunity to remind him about her own ideas for their future, her goals. Tara talked about medicine and becoming a doctor, a surgeon, so much that Jax was pretty sure he could perform a few basic first aid procedures just from listening to her alone, and he knew for a fact that he could apply to medical school without needing to research a single step of the process… not that he’d _ever_ be accepted, let alone meet the requirements.   
  
And Tara didn’t just _talk_ with Jax. She wrote to him, too. Not love letters or anything pussy like that. Tara wasn’t ripping paper out of her calculus notebook, dotting the letter i with hearts, or folding her every thought and feeling into little, packaged squares _for Jackson Teller’s eyes only!_ But she’d leave little scraps of paper lying around for Jax to find, scribbled spur of the moment observations that she thought he’d find amusing and simple yet sincere declarations of her love for him. Gemma was always bitching about the pulpy lint she’d discover in the wash - Jax having thought to save Tara’s messages but then always forgetting to take them out of his pockets. He didn’t return the gesture, never left her notes in return, but Jax believed that he showed Tara just how much he cared in other ways.  
  
As their relationship progressed, as it became ever more complicated by their diverging visions for their futures, Tara left him fewer and fewer messages. She didn’t love him any less. Of that he was confident. But Jax was pretty sure that she didn’t trust him as much with that love. Maybe it was because, somewhere along the line, he had stopped _really_ listening to her - the one person in her life that she actually wanted to confide in, who she allowed to hear her. So, no, when the club bailed him out of county, and he came home after a few days in lock up, Jax _wasn’t_ surprised to find that Tara had left him a letter. That she had left him. But, looking back, he was surprised that he didn’t do a damn thing about it.

_Jax,_

_Nobody told me that you were arrested. I don’t know if you asked them not to say anything, because you didn’t want to upset me, or if the club just didn’t think I mattered enough, but, whatever the reason, I was worried sick. When you didn’t show up to take me to work… Well, let’s just say that my mind didn’t go anywhere pleasant. My dad had already left for the day, so I just sat there on my front step, alternating between calling your house and calling the garage.  
  
Your mother saw me cry, Jax.   
  
Eventually, she answered the phone. When I told her that you were supposed to give me a ride that morning, she begrudgingly offered to pick me up. All she would tell me was that you were busy with club stuff. Apparently, that’s what sitting in a jail cell is to your mother: club stuff. By the time she revved into my driveway, I was so many things - angry for being stood up and so easily dismissed, relieved that you were okay but still afraid because who the hell ever knows what will happen to you when you’re doing something for SAMCRO, and I was still overwhelmed by all of the worst case scenarios I had been imagining. And you know how I get, Jax, when I feel too much. I cry. And that’s how your mother found me when she arrived.  
  
As I sat there, trying to regain control over my emotions, I watched a mom and her two kids across the street as they got ready for their day. I’ve lived in my house for my entire life, and, yet, I have apparently been so wrapped up in my own world that I never noticed them before. The mom is a nurse, I think. Her scrubs screamed nurse, not doctor, and there are two little boys - one is probably seven or eight and the other maybe four. They seemed like holy terrors… but in that adorable, little boy way, and it was obvious that they didn’t want to go to daycare, but the mom never lost her patience with their antics. In fact, she found the boys amusing. She was so affectionate, Jax. So warm. She was about to work a long shift on a beautiful, summer day, and she was just happy to be spending time with her children… even if it was in wrangling them into their carseats.   
  
And then your mother arrived, tires squealing and claws poised. She yelled out of the open window, “let’s go already! I don’t have all goddamn day!,” despite the fact that I was _right there _and already scrambling to my feet. The mom from across the street paused, looked over. I could see her frown. Was she annoyed with me for bringing your mother into our morning, or was she offended on my behalf? I’m not sure. And it really doesn’t matter, because my neighbor’s reaction isn’t the point. It’s my reaction that made me write this letter to you.  
  
When I climbed into your mother’s car, she immediately lit into me, mocking the fact that I was crying. She told me that, if I couldn’t handle you needing to bail on me for the club, then I should just get out now. While I cannot believe that I’m about to write these words, she’s not wrong - not because I cannot handle this life that you’ve chosen for yourself but because I don’t want to handle it. I don’t want to be your mother, Jax, accepting as little or as much as the man I love is willing to give me, accepting that the club always will and should come first; I want to be the mom from across the street. I want to live an honest, safe, even boring life.   
  
So, I’m leaving. Well, by the time you’re released from county and reading this, I’ll already be gone. My dad has a cousin in San Diego who has agreed to let me stay with her while I go to college down there. You know this is what I’ve wanted for a while now: school, a chance for more. I need to do something with my life besides love you. Because I do, Jax. I love you so much that, if I had stayed, we would have destroyed all of the good inside of each other. We would have used it all up.   
  
I don’t know how I’m going to do this. Without being able to see you, I feel blind. Without being able to taste, touch, and smell you, the world seems dull and devoid of warmth. Without your voice, there’s nothing I want to hear. I had to go all the way to San Diego, because, if I was even a mile closer, I think I’d come running back to you, Jax. And I know what you’re thinking, because, trust me, I’m thinking it, too. Would coming back to you really be so bad? Being with you could never be wrong, but, at least for now, it’s not right for me either.   
  
I’m not naive. Even if you weren’t _you _, I’m the one who’s leaving, so I won’t ask you to wait for me. I’m not even sure if I’ll ever come back. But, whether I’m physically with you or not, my heart is yours, Jax. Always. I’m not sure if you even want it anymore - not after this letter, not after my leaving, but I couldn’t take it back any more than I could take back the last three years that we’ve shared together.  
  
If you haven’t destroyed this letter yet, I hope you’ll understand someday why I had to do this. I want all the best for you, Jax… even if that isn’t me. I know that it isn’t the club. But you can be more - better than - SAMCRO, because you already are… just like I _will _be more than an old lady. I wouldn’t have that belief in myself, though, Jax, if you hadn’t believed in me first. So, thank you for loving me._

_Forever yours,  
Tara_

**I want to be a good woman**

**And I want for you to be a good man**

**This is why I will be leaving**

**And this is why I can't see you no more**

**I will miss your heart so tender**

**And I will love**

**This love forever**

The second time Tara wrote Jax a letter, he’d been waiting for it. Hell, he practically put the pen in her hand and begged - no, forced - her to write him the note. If how he treated her after Abel’s kidnapping wasn’t bad enough, then cheating on her - and with Ima no less - made Tara leaving him inevitable. And it wasn’t like Jax didn’t know exactly what he was doing, because Tara had warned him; she had warned him that cheating was the one thing she wouldn’t tolerate, and he intentionally used that against her.   
  
It didn’t matter that Jax wasn’t even sure now why he had fucked around on Tara. Maybe she was right; maybe he had been trying to punish her for Abel. He told himself that he didn’t blame her for Abel being taken, but someone had to shoulder that burden in order for Jax to function enough to get his son back, and, if not Tara, then who? Gemma for killing Cameron’s son in her quest for revenge against the bitch who facilitated her gang rape? Jax himself for bringing a child into a world where kidnappings, and revenge, and death weren’t just concepts but realities? Laying his fear, self-doubt, and fury at Tara’s feet was just easier, because he knew that she would take it. She loved him enough, and she already blamed herself, so she’d shoulder the burden of his blame, too, if he asked her to do so.  
  
In his own, twisted way, Ima had also been about protecting Tara as well. Seeing the destruction his life had wrecked, Jax knew that the best way he could love Tara was by getting her out. For as long and as hard as he had been fighting her on it, her decision to leave him all those years ago had been the right one. So, whether out of punishment or protection, the end result was the same: Jax had wanted to push Tara away.  
  
And he had succeeded.  
  
Except… now he wanted her back. He _needed_ her to come back to him, to Abel, to their little family. He had no doubt that leaving was still best for Tara, but he was a selfish man. The fact that, despite what the club had cost the both of them, Jax still refused to leave it was proof of that. But Tara loved that man - selfishness and all. That had been the case eleven years earlier, and it was still the case as he sat there, blindly staring at the note she had left him. Unlike the first time she had run, though, this time Jax had chased her away, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.  
  
When she left for college, his pride prevented him from going after her. With the hindsight of what it would have been like to have Tara by his side as they together worked towards their dreams, Jax realized that he should have been willing to compromise when they were teenagers. He _rode his bike_ for a living. Why couldn’t he have made the trip to see her? The long distance thing probably would have been a disaster, knowing the two of them, but he still should have _tried_. Or he should have offered to transfer charters - something, anything to keep her in his life and show her that her happiness meant just as much if not more than his own.  
  
But hindsight _always_ came too late, because, now that Jax was willing to fight for Tara, he couldn’t. He couldn’t go after her, beg her to take him back. He couldn’t find her and say or do anything to reassure her of his love, of her worth, of her place in his and Abel’s lives. He couldn’t _join_ her… which shockingly held more appeal than his nineteen year old self would ever have believed. Because he was going to prison.   
  
Abel was home, Jax was going to prison, and Tara had left him once again with nothing more than a letter… and even that was more than he deserved.

_Jax,  
  
I’m pregnant. You’re probably already aware of this, and, if you weren’t yet, then she would have told you as soon as she discovered me gone. Because your mother knows. But that’s not why _I’m _telling you, Jax. I’m telling you that we conceived a child together, because it’s the only way I can explain my leaving you. Again. It’s also why I’m admitting that I almost had an abortion. I even went so far as to make the appointment.  
  
I was hurt, and I was scared, and I was afraid, Jax. And you weren’t there - not because you were in Ireland getting Abel back, which was exactly where you should have been. But because, for whatever your reasons, you left me. You shut me out, and then you spit on everything we meant to one another by cheating on me. I’m not blaming you, though - not for my almost decisions or for my ultimate one to once more run away.  
  
In the end, the Ima of it all really doesn’t matter, Jax. Sometimes you do it in fucked up ways, but I know that you love me. I know that you don’t choose to hurt me. After Abel was taken, I saw it in your eyes, Jax. The fear. You looked at me, and you saw Gemma’s rape, Abel’s kidnapping, Half Sack’s dead body, maybe even David Hale’s, too. You looked at me, and you saw a multitude of terrifying, tragic ends. So, you did what you did, and I’m not ashamed to admit to you, Jax, that, by the time I wrote this letter, I was already halfway to forgiving you. I can’t help myself when it comes to you, I guess. But, as I’m sure you know, it’s not nearly so easy to forgive yourself.  
  
And I have a lot to atone for, Jax.  
  
I realized I might be pregnant right before Abel was kidnapped. It was still too early for a test, and it was more a feeling than anything else, but now I know that I was right. As one child was taken from my arms, my body was growing and shielding another. I’m not sure if you realize this or will even believe me when I tell you that that’s how I see Abel: as _my _child. Because he’s_ yours _. I couldn’t love him any more than if we had made him together. In fact, sometimes I think I love him so much that there’s no way I’ll ever be able to offer the baby I’m carrying even a fraction of that love, because surely a woman only has so much to give, and, between you and Abel, Jax, haven’t I given away my allotment?  
  
But this brings me to my point. I’m about to deliver an innocent life into this world, and what have I offered it so far? I’m not even through my first trimester yet, and, during the short time that I’ve been pregnant, I’ve done so many horrible things. I helped you sell illegal drugs. I helped your mother kill a woman, Jax, and then, with Tig’s help, we covered it up. And then I was going to terminate my pregnancy, so, what?, I could go on doing appalling things and being this vile woman that I didn’t even recognize anymore?   
  
Everything I had feared when we were kids came true. I wasn’t the happy, normal mom putting her kids in the car, so she could take them to daycare and go to work; I was _your mom _. You know my relationship with Gemma is complicated, Jax. In my own way, I love her, too, and I can even admire certain things about her: her strength, her tenacity, her devotion to the people she loves. But I’m not her, and I can’t be or become her, because then I’ll lose myself. I have sacrificed so much to become the woman I am today, and I’m about to sacrifice even more to stay that woman.  
  
I got a job at Sacred Heart Children’s Hospital in Spokane. It’s not my dream position by any stretch of the imagination, but, for everything happening so last minute, I couldn’t have done any better. Plus, I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m happy to be so far away from the Sons. The nearest charter is almost five hours away, and I’m almost fourteen hours from Charming. And this time, Jax, I do not plan on ever coming back.  
  
I realize that, in doing this - in getting out, I’m sacrificing one child for another. And I’ll have to live with that sadness, that guilt for the rest of my life. But, if I stayed, I wouldn’t be the mother that Abel deserves and needs anyway. I wouldn’t be good enough for him. At least this way, I’ll give myself a chance to be good enough for one of our children. Plus, what if I stayed, and you didn’t even get Abel back?  
  
I know I have no right to ask anything of you, but, if you could see it in your heart to let me know what happens to him, to Abel - good or bad, I’d… appreciate it, Jax. But appreciation isn’t even the half of it. I _need _to know, one way or another. I’d love to ask you to send him to me if you get him back, but I know better than to think that’s even a possibility. I know that, even if you wanted Abel to be raised by me away from Charming and SAMCRO, your mother would never allow it, and, after this letter, after leaving you again, after taking your child away from you, I highly doubt you’d be so inclined anyway.  
  
I also know that I have no legal leg to stand on should I think to fight for him. I’m not your wife. I’m not your fiancee. I’m not even your girlfriend anymore. And the courts do not recognize the status of old ladies, I’m both afraid and ever so grateful to inform you. You never asked me to be Abel’s legal guardian, and the idea of adoption was never even mentioned. In the eyes of the law, I am nothing more to Abel than his _former _surgeon. That certainly would not grant me custody. But I’m hoping you will grant me the courtesy of at least knowing whether the little boy I love so much is alive, and home, and as safe as growing up in an outlaw motorcycle club will allow.  
  
I know you’re going in, Jax. I don’t know for how long, but I realize that a prison sentence is inevitable after your last arrest. I told you where I’m going, where our unborn child will be, so that you have that peace of mind, but don’t send anyone after me and only come yourself if you’re willing to stay. I might always run, Jax, but you’ll never leave, and I’m starting to realize that this is just as devastating. If not moreso. If you can’t love us _here _\- away from SAMCRO, then I hope that you can still love us from afar. I know that I’ll still love you. Time and distance cannot touch what I feel for you, Jax.  
  
I love you for seeing me, for loving me. I love you for Abel. I love you for this second child that you gave me. I love you for your strength, for your humor, and I love you for those moments when you allow yourself to be weak and vulnerable with me. I love how dedicated you are… even if I don’t always love what inspires your allegiance. I love your hands and your ridiculously long eyelashes. I love your laugh, and I love that I’m one of the only people in this world who has ever seen your tears. I love you for foolishly wearing tennis shoes when riding your bike.   
  
But, if I’m going to find a way to love myself again, then I can’t be _in love _with you anymore, Jax.  
  
I can’t be _with _you either.  
  
And I hope that you love me enough to let me go despite the fact that I know you won't believe my self-deceptions any more than I do._

_Goodbye, Jax.  
_ _Tara_

**I don't want be a bad women**

**And I can't stand to see you be a bad man**

**I will miss your heart so tender**

**And I will love**

**This love forever**

**And this is why I am leaving**

**And this is why I can't see you no more**

**This is why I am lying when I say**

**That I don't love you no more**

The third time Tara Knowles wrote him a letter, it stunned him. In fact, Jax was overwhelmed by the gesture. He was in a dark place when it arrived - lost, and confused, and broken. Jax had long given up hope that he would ever hear from Tara again, and then he was holding a note written by her hand - a unique combination of utilitarian cursive and soft printing that he would recognize anywhere and no matter how much time had gone by. Knowing that she couldn’t be writing to leave him once again, for they weren’t together and hadn’t been in years, Jax didn’t approach the letter with trepidation. Instead, he felt curiosity and gratitude, joy and even a little optimism. They were such foreign feelings to him by that point that he struggled to identify them.  
  
Without Tara, his life had… disintegrated. After getting Abel back, Jax had gone into prison with the intention of making his family whole; he was released with the plan to get out, not bring Tara and their child back in; and he lived with that resolve for less than 24 hours before he wanted nothing more than to destroy the world. Without Tara, Gemma cared for Abel while Jax was on the inside, so his house sat empty for more than a year, and no one found the ticking time bomb waiting in his duffle, leaving that detonation for Jax’s honor.  
  
And detonate he most certainly did.   
  
After Jax found his father’s letters to Maureen, letters Maureen had slipped into his bag before he left Ireland, Jax forgot about everything and everyone in his quest for revenge. What followed was a wide and undiscerning path of destruction. Jax lied and deceived one and all. He killed, and he was nearly killed more than once. Without anyone in his life that he could trust, Jax spun out of control until he lost all of it, receiving his second prison sentence, but this one far lengthier, in as many years.   
  
Jax still wasn’t clear on if he’d been excommunicated from SAMCRO or if he had forced his own way out, but the how didn’t really matter. What did was that the club he had sacrificed everything for was no longer a part of his life, not even through Abel. Wendy had Abel now, and Jax was on his own in prison, scraping by without protection and just trying to keep his head down without adding even more time to his sentence. Until Jax received Tara’s letter, though, he didn’t know why he was even thinking about getting out, because for what? He had no club, no family, no future.   
  
But then he was holding Tara’s letter, and, suddenly, it felt like he had a chance, yet another shot to do and be better.

_Hi Jax,  
  
You have no idea how many times I’ve sat down to write to you only to second guess the idea. I doubted myself - what I had to say to you and whether or not you’d want to hear from me, not after… everything. When you never contacted me about Abel, I questioned if you’d even want to know about Thomas. If you deserved to know about our son. Plus, I can admit that there was a part of me that felt compelled to hurt you the way that you hurt me. You kept the fate of your son from me, so I’d keep _our _son from you entirely.  
  
Even when I was my most conflicted - furious yet still missing you, I never stopped loving you, Jax. Hell, I named our son after both you and your little brother. Thomas Nathaniel. I gave him your last name. You are his father of record even if not in practice. And that’s not saying that another man is raising your son. There hasn’t been, there isn’t, and there won’t be anyone else.  
  
Don’t take that as a compliment, though, Jax. You are not irreplaceable. In fact, if anything, you should read this as an indictment, because I no longer trust my own judgement, and I do not feel strong enough to survive another failed relationship. And any relationship I embarked on would inevitably fail, because you’d be there, too, Jax. You’ll always be with me. Haunting me. Plus, I find that, whereas my career was never capable of fulfilling me completely - it was satisfying but not fulfilling, motherhood does.   
  
Thomas is perfect. Literally. He did not inherit your family’s CHD. He’s healthy. He looks like you, because _of course he does _, but his personality is more like mine. Whether that’s nature or nurture, I’m not sure. But he’s an inquisitive child. When he does finally talk, it’s to ask questions. Right now, his favorite things are grilled peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, giraffes, and Where’s Waldo_? _  
  
When he was fussy as a baby, the only thing that could calm him down was golf. Seriously. There was something about the gentle, rhythmic cadence of a golf broadcast that soothed him. Thankfully, we’ve moved past this dependence, but Thomas still doesn’t like loud noises. In fact, one of our neighbors recently bought a motorcycle - some ridiculous, flashy bike that screams mid-life crisis. Given that Thomas is _your _son, I was curious to see if he’d have some inherent interest in the Harley. But he_ hates _it, Jax - says that it hurts his ears. In everything but looks, he truly is his brother’s opposite.  
  
And, yes, I’ve seen Abel. Shortly after he went to live with Wendy, Abel’s pediatrician reached out to me, wanting a more anecdotal account of his health history, not knowing of the personal connection. When I advised Abel’s doctor to clear my involvement with Wendy first, she actually called me herself, and we’ve stayed loosely in contact ever since. She is how I learned that you not letting me know that you got Abel back from the Irish was more complicated than just how we wrecked things between us, and she’s also how I know that, though you set fire to your entire life in the process, you’re finally out of the club.   
  
I almost wrote to you then. The things that you did before you went to prison, Jax? I hate them. But, if the end result is your freedom from SAMCRO, from your family’s twisted, cursed legacy, then I cannot argue with their results. Something so right cannot be wrong. I wish that your emotional freedom hadn’t come at the cost of your physical freedom. I wish that you would have let me help you get out years ago. And I wish that you didn’t have to lose everything else, but particularly your children, in order to gain that freedom. I feared, however, that you wouldn’t be ready to hear these things, especially not from me, so, once more, I ignored my instincts to reach out to you and, instead, put just that much more of myself into our son.   
  
Thomas might be all the family I have, Jax, but he has a brother, and he has a father, too. Just as I want Abel in Thomas’ life - Wendy and I work together so that the boys can see each other a few times a year, I want him to know his dad as well. I want Thomas to know you, Jax. And that’s why I’m finally sending you this letter. The man I left all those years ago? He isn’t someone who I’d want our son to know. But a man who takes responsibility for his actions, who tries to make amends, who tells the truth even when that truth steals his very freedom, who learns to put the welfare of others above his own? That’s the man I always knew you could be, and that’s the only man I’ve ever wanted as the father of my children.  
  
So, I’m going to help you, Jax. Whether you want my help or not, you have it; whether you accept my help or not, I will give it. After Wendy told me about you being in prison again, I read up on your case. You made quite the stir, didn’t you, Jax? So, I know that you’ll be up for parole in a couple of years. You’ll need a good lawyer. Whether you realize that me paying your legal fees is as much for me (and Thomas and Abel) as it is for you, or whether you insist upon someday paying me back, for now you don’t need to worry about the cost. Just hire the best, and we’ll work everything else out once you’re_ _released._  
  
 _I’d also like to be a character witness for you. But, in order to do that, I think we need to get to know each other anew. Who is Jax Teller without SAMCRO? Who am I without you but with our son? And, as I get to know you all over again, I can introduce you to Thomas. I’ve told him stories about you from the moment he was first born and placed in my arms - stories about our youth, about when we first fell in love, about all the good things we were for each other. But I’d like him to know not just the man from my memories but also the man you are today._  
  
 _Unlike before, I’m hoping that this letter won’t be an end but a beginning. I’m also hoping that, for the first time, you’ll write back. I don’t blame you for never reaching out to me in the past, for never returning my letters with one of your own. But know that I would have welcomed them then just like I will welcome them now. If you’d like to write to Thomas, too, I think he’d like that. I would have to read your words to him, but they would still be your words to your son, Jax._  
  
 _Even if you don’t write back to me, I won’t regret sending you this note, and my offer to help you will still stand. But I hope you will. I miss you, Jax. I’ve missed you for years, and I find that writing these words just makes me miss you that much more, because I can’t actually say these things_ to _you. And because I love you, too._

_Always,  
_ _Tara_

**'Cause I want to be a good women**

**And I want for you to be a good man**

The first time Jax wrote Tara a letter, he knew exactly what he was doing. Because Jax was going to do every goddamn thing he could think of to, for the first time in their relationship, go to her. And then stay. It was the least that she deserved. And it didn’t matter if this was his last chance, his final shot to do and be better… not just for her but also for his children as well, because Jax was determined to be the man that Tara, the best woman he knew, needed. But he didn’t just want to be a good man for her; Jax had finally realized that he wanted to be a good man for himself, too - an honest, safe, even boring man.   
  
When he sat down and put pencil to paper, Jax became aware of the fact that, even when he had lost all hope of Tara loving him, of knowing his sons, he had still loved them - he always would, and it was that love - unselfish and unreturned - that had allowed him to hold on, to keep fighting, to live. No matter what would happen in the future, that love was something that no one, not even Jax himself, could take away. It was forever. Tara, Thomas, and Abel needed to know that. They had a right to know that. And, now, Jax was _finally_ going to tell them. 


End file.
